WALTER WHITE
You know. You all know exactly who I am. Say my name. I'm the cook. I'm the man who killed Gus Fring. That's right. Now. Say my name.
No speeches. Short speech. You lost your partner today. What's his name - Emilio? Emilio is going to prison. The DEA took all your money, your lab. You got nothing. Square one. But you know the business and I know the chemistry. I'm thinking... maybe you and I could partner up.
I'm sorry, what were you asking me? Oh, yes, that stupid plastic container I asked you to buy. You see, hydrofluoric acid won't eat through plastic. It will, however, dissolve metal, rock, glass, ceramic. So there's that. How about something with some protein, maybe? Something green, huh? How are you even alive?
That is seventeen five - your half of the thirty-five thousand. Plus there's an extra fifteen in there, it's all yours, you've earned it. We made a deal. That's right. Because I think that we can do business together - we came to an understanding. Take a look at the money in your hand. Now just imagine making that every week. That's right. Two pounds a week, thirty-five thousand a pound.
Look... I feel like I'm running out of ways to explain this to you but once more, I shall try. This fly is a major problem for us. It will ruin our batch. And we need to destroy it and every trace of it, so we can cook. Failing that, we're dead. There's no more room for error. Not with these people.
You asked me if we were in the meth business or the money business. Neither, I am in the empire business. I was under the impression that you had this under control. Well, that's what this is - problem solving. Skyler this is a simple division of labor - I bring in the money, you launder the money. This is what you wanted.
Who are you talking to right now? Who is it you think you see? Do you know how much I make a year? I mean, even if I told you, you wouldn't believe it. Do you know what would happen if I suddenly decided to stop going into work? A business big enough that it could be listed on the NASDAQ goes belly up. Disappears! It ceases to exist without me. No, you clearly don't know who you're talking to, so let me clue you in. I am not in danger, Skyler. I AM the danger! A guy opens his door and gets shot and you think that of me? No. I am the one who knocks!
Did he speak to you? Would you just answer? What things? What people? A month ago, Gus was trying to kill both of us. And now, he pulls you out of the lab and employs you as... what... a, an assistant gunman? A tough guy? Does that make any sense to you? He says he sees something in you. What kind of game is he playing. Does he think you're that naive? He can't truly think that you'd forget... let alone Gale, let alone Victor... and all the horror that goes along with all of that.
It's enough. This is still the best way. You go after him with a gun, you'll never get out of it alive. But with this... you slip it into his food or drink, there shouldn't be any taste or smell... thirty-six hours later... poof. A man his age, working as hard as he does... no one will be surprised. Mike can have his suspicions, but that's all they'll be. Please, one homicidal maniac at a time.
Look, I'll give you Jesse Pinkman, OK? Like you said, he's the problem, he's always been the problem and without him, we would... and he's in town, alright? He's not in Virginia or wherever the hell you're looking for him. He's right here in Albuquerque and I can take you to him, I'll take you right to him. What do you say?
It's complicated and I don't wish to discuss it. It's none of your concern. You know what, let's just say that I have a hell of a lot more on my mind, right now, than thinking about buying a damn car wash. Okay? So if you could just... please.
Stop. Stop! You keep saying that word - danger... danger! No and I have never used that word. I said things were complicated. And then you flew off the handle!
Gus is gonna make his move. I don't know when, I don't know where or how. All I know is it's gonna happen. Powerless to stop him.
I have been waiting. I've been waiting all day. Waiting for Gus to send one of his men to kill me. And it's you. Who do you know, who's okay with using children, Jesse? Who do you know... who's allowed children to be murdered... hmm? Gus! He has, he has been ten steps ahead of me at every turn. And now, the one thing that he needed to finally get rid of me is your consent and boy he's got that now. He's got it. And not only does he have that, but he manipulated you into pulling the trigger for him.
No! You don't even believe that! Gus has cameras everywhere, please. Listen to yourself! No, he has known everything, all along. Where were you today? In the lab? And you don't think it's possible that Tyrus lifted the cigarette out of your locker? Come on! Don't you see? You are the last piece of the puzzle. You are everything that he's wanted.
You're his cook now. You're the cook and you have proven that you can run a lab without me and now that cook has reason to kill me. Think about it! It's brilliant. So go ahead. If you think that I am capable of doing this, then go ahead. Put a bullet, in my head, and kill me right now. DO IT! Do it. Do it. Do it.
Saul, Saul... this man that we spoke of before, this... this person that you said could... could disappear me, get me a whole new life and make sure that I'm never found. Yeah I need him, Saul. Gus is gonna murder my whole family. I need this man now. Saul... now, Saul!
Anything suspicious? Well... then should we go? Any uh... Cartel news these days? Seems like I'm always reading something or other in the paper. I don't want to talk about it. To you or anyone else. I'm done explaining myself. Gus is dead. We've got work to do.
Jesse Jackson? Do you even... ah, I see you have a telephone at least. You know that blinking thing I've been calling you on? I will break this, I will BREAK THIS. Damn druggie idiot. Is this what you've been doing the whole time I've been trying to reach you?
The game has changed. The word is out. And you... are a killer. Apparently it's all over town. Somebody crossed you, you got angry, you crushed their skull with an ATM machine. Who cares! Just as long as it's our competitors who believe it and not the police.
Don't you see how great this is? You, you are a... Jesse look at me. You... are a blowfish. A blowfish! Think about it. Small in stature, not swift, not cunning. Easy prey for predators but the blowfish has a secret weapon doesn't he. Doesn't he? What does the blowfish do, Jesse. What does the blowfish do? The blowfish puffs up, okay? The blowfish puffs himself up four, five times larger than normal and why? Why does he do that? So that it makes him intimidating, that's why. Intimidating! So that the other, scarier fish are scared off. And that's you! You are a blowfish. You see it's just all an illusion. You see it's... it's nothing but air. Now... who messes with the blowfish, Jesse? You're damn right. You are a blowfish. Say it again. Say it like you mean it. You're a BLOWFISH!
My partner was about to get himself shot. I intervened. He was angry because those two dealers of yours had just murdered an eleven year-old boy. Then again, maybe he thought it was you who gave the order.
He has enough money to last forever. He knows he needs to keep moving. You'll never find him. He's out of the picture. I saved his life, I owed him that, but now he and I are done. Which is exactly what you wanted, isn't it. You've always struck me as a very pragmatic man so if I may, I would like to review options with you. Of which, it seems to me you have two.
Option A, you kill me right here and now. Apparently I've made that very easy for you. You can kill me, no witnesses and then spend the next few weeks or months tracking down Jesse Pinkman and you kill him too. A pointless exercise it seems to me but that is Option A. I continue cooking, you and I both forget about Pinkman. We forget this ever happened. We consider this a lone hiccup in an otherwise long and fruitful business arrangement. I prefer Option B.
He'll live. I asked to see you in order to... clear the air. There are uh, some... issues that could cause a misunderstanding between us and I think it's in our best interest to lay the cards on the table. My brother-in-law, moments before he was attacked, someone called to warn him. I believe that same person was protecting me. Those two men, the assassins. I believe I was their prime target, but that somehow they were steered away from me to my brother-in-law. Because of this 'intervention' I am alive. And yet, I think that this person was playing a much deeper game. He made that phone call because he wanted a shootout not a silent assassination. In one stroke, he bloodied both sides - set the American and Mexican governments against the Cartel, and cut off the supply of methamphetamine to the southwest. If this man had his own source of product on this side of the border, he would have the market to himself. The rewards would be... enormous. We're both adults. I can't pretend I don't know that person is you. I want there to be no confusion. I know I owe you my life. And more than that, I respect the strategy. In your position, I would have done the same. One issue, which troubles me, I don't know what happens when our three-month contract ends. You know why I do this. I want security for my family.
Look, Skyler, I just haven’t quite been myself lately. I haven’t been myself lately, but I love you. Nothing about that has changed, and nothing ever will. So right now, what I need is for you to climb down out of my ass. Can you do that? Will you do that for me, honey? Will you please, just once, get off my ass. You know, I’d appreciate it. I really would.
All right, I've got the Talking Pillow now. Okay? We all, in this room, we love each other. We want what's best for each other, and I know that. I am very thankful for that. But what I want? What I want, what I need, is a choice. Sometimes, I feel like I never actually make any of my own. Choices, I mean. My entire life, it just seems I never you know, had a real say about any of it. Now this last one ... cancer ... All I have left is how I choose to approach this. I just - Of course, I do. But Skyler. You've read the statistics sheet, these doctors talking about surviving, one year, two years, like it's the only thing that matters. But what good is it to survive if I'm too sick to work? To enjoy a meal? To make love? For what time I have left, I want to live in my own house. I want to sleep in my own bed. I don't want to choke down 40 or 50 pills every single day, and lose my hair, lie around, too tired to get up, and so nauseated that I can't even move my head. You cleaning up after me. Me... me some um... some dead man, some artificially alive, just marking time... No. And that's how you would remember me. That's the worst part. So... that is my thought process, Skyler. I'm sorry, it's just I choose not to do it.
Let's get something straight. This - the chemistry - is my realm. I am in charge of the cooking. Out there on the street, you deal with that. As far as our customers go, I don't want to know anything about them. I don't need to see them. I don't want to hear from them. I want no interaction with them whatsoever. This operation is you and me, and I'm the silent partner. You got any issues with that? No matter what happens, no more bloodshed. No violence.
Doctor, my wife is seven months pregnant with a baby we didn't intend. My fifteen-year old son has cerebral palsy. I am an extremely overqualified high school chemistry teacher. When I can work, I make $43,700 per year. I have watched all of my colleagues and friends surpass me in every way imaginable. And within eighteen months, I will be dead. And you ask why I ran?
I have spent my whole life scared – frightened of things that could happen, might happen, might not happen. Fifty years I spent like that. Finding myself awake at three in the morning. But you know what? Ever since my diagnosis, I sleep just fine. What I came to realize is that fear, that's the worst of it. That's the real enemy. So, get up, get out in the real world and you kick that bastard as hard as you can right in the teeth.
I'm saying that I lived too long. You want them to actually miss you. You want their memories of you to be... but she just won't... she just won't understand. I mean, no matter how well I explain it, these days she just has this... this... I mean, I truly believe there exists some combination of words. There must exist certain words in a certain specific order that can explain all of this, but with her I just can't ever seem to find them.
Alright, let's talk about Gale Boetticher. He was a good man and a good chemist. He didn't deserve what happened to him. He didn't deserve it at all. But I'd shoot him again and tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. When you make it Gale versus me, or Gale versus Jesse, Gale loses! Simple as that. This is on you, Gus, not me, not Jesse. I mean really, what'd you expect me to do? Just simply roll over and allow you to murder us? That I wouldn't take measures – extreme measures – to defend myself? Wrong! Think again.
Then what else should I not worry about, Saul, hm? Should I not worry that Gus plans to murder me at the first chance he gets? Should I not worry that my drug-addicted partner doesn't seem to care whether he lives or dies? You should see his house. It's like skid row! He has actual hobos living there! Now how long before Gus decides that he's too big of a risk? That guy Mike, that grunting dead-eyed cretin, sucker punching me in the face! I've got Gus wielding a box cutter! I mean...Western Union! Message received! Let me ask you, when did this stop being a business, hm? Why am I the only person capable of behaving in a professional manner?
He had Huntington's disease. It destroys portions of the brain, effects muscle control, and leads to dementia. It's just a nasty disease. It's genetic. Terrified my mother that I might have it, so they ran tests on me when I was a kid, but I came up clean. My father fell very ill when I was four, five. Spent a lot of time in the hospital. My, heh, my mother would tell me so many stories about my father. I mean, she would talk about him all the time. I knew about his personality, how he treated people, I even knew how he liked his steaks cooked; medium rare, just like you. I knew things about my father, I had a lot of information. It was because people would tell me these things. They would paint this picture of my father for me and I always pretended that was who I saw too, that I remembered. But it was all a lie. In truth, I only have one real actual memory of my father. It must have been right before he died. My mother would take me to the hospital to visit him. And I remember the smell in there. The chemicals. It was as if they used every single cleaning product they could find in a fifty mile radius, like they didn't want you smelling the sick people. There was this stench of Lysol and bleach, you could just feel it coating your lungs. Anyway, there lying on the bed is my father. And he's all... he's all twisted up. My mom, she puts me on her lap, she's sitting on the bed next to him so I can get a good look at him, but really he just scares me. And he's looking right at me, but I can't even be sure he knows who I am. And your grandmother is talking, trying to be cheerful as she does, but the only thing I could remember is him breathing. There was this...this rattling sound, like if you were shaking an empty spray paint can. Like there was nothing in him. Anyway, that is the only real memory that I have of my father. I don't want you to think of me the way I was last night. I don't want that to be the memory you have of me when I'm gone.
You didn't set out to hurt anybody. You made a mistake, things got out of control, but you did what you had to do to protect your family and I’m sorry, that doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you a human being.
I'm sorry you feel this way. I want to beat this thing, I do. I'm back on chemo and I'm fighting like hell. But the truth is... in six months you won't have someone to prosecute. Even, even if somehow you were able to convince anyone that I was capable of doing these things. You and I both know I would never see the inside of a jail cell. I'm a dying man who runs a car wash. My right hand to God, that's all that I am. What's the point?
If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead, murdered, by my brother-in-law Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a meth empire for over a year now and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, he asked that I used my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which he would then sell using connections that he made through his career with the DEA. I was astounded, I always thought Hank was a very moral man, and I was particularly vulnerable at the time, something that he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from the cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me on a ride along and showed me how much money even a small meth operation could make. I was weak, I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin, so I agreed. Hank had a partner, businessman named Gustavo Fring. Hank sold me into servitude to this man. When I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hank and Fring had a falling out and things escalated. Fring was able to arrange.. I guess you call it a hit.. on Hank and it failed, but Hank was seriously injured. So I wound up paying his medical bills, which amounted to a little over 177,000 dollars. Upon recovery, Hank was bent on revenge. Working with a man named Hector Salamanca, he plotted to kill Fring. The bomb that he used was built by me, and he gave me no option in it. I've often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hank had risen to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA. To keep me in line, he took my children for 3 months he kept them. My wife had no idea of my criminal activities, was horrified to learn what I had done. I was in Hell, I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit and in response, he gave me this. I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hank will kill me or worse, hurt my family. All I can think to do is to make this video and hope that the world will finally see this man for what he really is.
What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you do one thing I say? This is your fault! This is what comes with your disrespect! I told you Skyler, I warned you for a solid year, you crossed me there will be consequences. What part of that didn’t you understand? Maybe now you’ll listen. Maybe now you’ll use your damn head. You know, you never believed in me. You were never grateful for anything I did for this family. ‘Oh no! Walt! Walt! You have to stop! You have to stop this! It’s immoral! It’s illegal! Someone might get hurt!’ You’re always whining and complaining about how I make my money, dragging me down while I do everything. And now, now you tell my son what I do? After I’ve told you and told you to keep your damn mouth shut? You stupid bitch! How dare you?
I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. And, I was really... I was alive.
How are you feeling? Kind of under the weather? Like you've got the flu? That would be the ricin I gave you. I slipped it into that Stevia crap that you're always putting in your tea. Well, goodbye Lydia.